


A purple camper van and a polaroid camera

by silverleviathan



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Fluff, Honeymoon, M/M, Marriage, brief mentions of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 18:45:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2358353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverleviathan/pseuds/silverleviathan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank and Gerard go on their honeymoon.</p>
<p>In a purple VW.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A purple camper van and a polaroid camera

**Author's Note:**

> So I threw this together in four days for the Happily Ever After frerardhub challenge. Apologies for any typos/errors/whatthefuckever. I HAVE NO IDEA HOW THIS HAPPENED JUST SHUT UP AND EMBRACE THE FLUFF twitter: @_theexplicitone

On a honymoon, most people would go somewhere like... Gerard doesn't know, the carribean or something. Maybe Spain. Or Italy, that's the country of lurve, right? Either way, it would be quiet, relaxed, secluded, and fucking _expensive._

Not Gerard.

He pictures it and laughs. He and Frankie?! An adult, luxury holiday?! Frankie would probably make mosters in the sand and chase the waves on the beach, make a mess of the buffet and take the piss out of the stupid uniforms at the bar. Loudly.

Instead, Gerard buys a map and a multi-pack of lube.

What?! He never said he was subtle...

 

It's dark outside when Gerard drags him away from the party, the moonbeams making Frank's eyes shine like diamonds and his pale skin drip with rich colours.

"So...?" Frank prompts, a hint of excitement leaking into his tone. Gerard grins stupidly and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, before he leads him round to the parking lot. Their eyes fall upon Bob's little purple camper van, adorned with white ribbons and massive white bow on the windshield.

Frank bursts out laughing.

"Do you like it?" Gerard asks nervously. "I thought... well. Roadtrip!"

"It's perfect, Gee!" Frank says, wiping his eyes. "Fuck yeah, roadtrip, baby!" Frank pulls him down for a sloppy kiss and they lick at each other's tongues until Gerard reluctantly pulls away. "I got you a present, too," He murmurs.

Frank makes grabby hands so he runs back inside and returns with a box wrapped in paper with little hearts on it. Frank snorts when he sees it, but rips it open.

"It's--"

"A polaroid camera. You said you wanted one, and... yeah."

"There's something attatched--" he flips over the little card tucked into the strap. " _For my beautiful husband._ "

Frank squeals worryingly high and wraps Gerard in a tight hug. "You're such a cheese, Gee." And yeah, Gerard knows that, but whatever. Frank got his name tattooed over his heart. If that's not cheesy, Gerard doesn't know what is.

 

They set off the next morning. When they'd unlocked the van they'd found it to be pretty cozy - plush leather seats, a massive furry rug, a double bed in the back and a housewarming present from Bob; a string of bunting made of condom packets. They hang it above the windscreen.

The first night they go to a festival and get matching anklets and stay in the mosh pit until midnight. It's all a bit hippy-dippy; of course there's a campfire and a dickhead with dreadlocks and an acoustic guitar. Gerard snorts in the guy's face when he asks him if he's a 'spiritual dude'.

Frank takes a polaroid of Gerard getting his hair braided by a lady with pircings in her lips like vampire teeth. She and Frank click immediately and she shows them to a gazebo that smells of pot but has a table laiden with free food. They try a spicy, fruity non-alcoholic drink that makes them giggle for the next hour, and when that wears off, they go back for three more glasses.

When the pair finally go back to the van they fuck long and slow and perfect. As they lay breathing together the sun shines through the gaps in the curtain and softens the edges on ther bodies, and they're both so beautiful they kiss for what feels like hours.

The second night they stumble across a tiny record store tucked into the corner of an alleyway. Together, they practically buy out the store, and as they're hauling ass back to the VW Frank spies a dusty old record player in the window of an antique shop.

It works, and that evening they lay down a blanket and watch the sun set to the melodies of old, forgotten vinyls. Frank snaps a picture of Gerard hunched over the box of records, and in retaliation Gerard gets a beautiful shot of Frank's ass as he kneels to get the needle just so.

Gerard digs out his sketchpad from his bag and draws Frank 'like one of his french girls', the setting sun behind him seemingly setting the world ablaze.

The amber sky makes their skin glow gold and they make love in the sun's dying rays. When Frank sobs out Gerard's name it's the most beautiful thing he's ever heard.

The third night Gerard takes Frank out to dinner; they flirt and hold hands under the table and giggle like they're seventeen again. They feed each other spoons of ice cream for dessert and Frank blobs it on Gerard's nose before licking it away playfully. Gerard bites his jaw gently, firmly, and then it's a rush to get out of the restaurant and down the side alley where Gerard sinks to his knees and makes Frank forget his name.

The fourth night they go to a poetry slam and Gerard watches Frank get lost in the intricate weavings of rhyme and passion. Frank insists on doing a reading and rushes back outside to the VW in the parking lot, returning with the little black notebook he doesn't let anyone see. On stage, Gerard watches reverently as Frank shuffles through the pages before swallowing, licking his lips, swallowing again and finally letting the words form around his tongue.

The words touch Gerard's heart, as surely as they have been coaxed from Frank's own. Several times Frank's eyes drift up to meet his almost against his own accord, but for the most part stay shyly fixed on the raw words scrawled on the page.

As Frank bounds down the stage stairs and the applause swells Gerard wipes his eyes fiercely, though he doesn't bother to when he sees Frank's own eyes glinting wetly back at him.

_“I love you,”_ Frank whispers against his lips that night.  _“I love you with everything.”_

Gerard knows. He feels it too.

For the fifth night they go to the beach and Gerard discovers his assumptions were right; Frank is a little terror on the sand. He splashes about in the waves until he trips and it taints his eyes red. Even then, it's only a few minuts of sitting watching Gerard sketch before he's tugging on Gerard's arm, using his powers of persuasion to coax Gerard into the waves.

It  _is_ pretty fun.

They retire from the beach with a handful of frames from the camera and more than a handful of sand in awkward places. After a long shower (in which Gerard gets the World's Best Handjob) the pair battle it out on the arcade machines. Gerard soon learns Frank is a _demon_ on the dance simulators. By his third game with a perfect score he has a small audience looking starstruck. Gerard can't deny he gets a small swell of pride watching their slackened jaws drop. _That's my husband, bitches. Hell yeah._

They cram into the tiny photo booth and pull stupid faces as the screen flashes, though once the machine spits out the strip of photos Frank declares his polaroid has better quality and takes a dozen more of their faces smushed together.

That evening they walk along the promenade eating fish and chips right out of the wrapper, and get ice cream cones with sprinkles (and a flake... and chocolate sauce... and popping candy... don't judge, okay?!). Gerard lets Frank lick into his mouth to 'taste his ice cream', though soon both treats are dropped, forgotten, to the ground in favour of the delicious taste of each other.

For the fifth night they're wondering around a strange, twisted market when a certain shop catches Gerard's eye. He points it out of Frank, who immediately blushes excitedly and nods.

Inside the sex shop Frank discovers a BDSM section and smiles a puppy dog smile at Gerard until he caves. Gerard feels a little uncertain since the most hardcore thing they've done is lingerie and a little rough sex, but he sees the way Frank's face _lights up_ when his eyes fall upon a silver studded collar and a matching black corset.

They leave later that day with several bags each, a semi in their pants and several polaroids of Frank in the changing room looking _gorgeous_.

Needless to say, that night they're _loud_.

The sixth night they're wondering around the next city when abruptly they find themselves lost in an explosion of colour. _It's Pride,_ Gerard realises. By the grin on Frank's face, he's come to the same conclusion and they join the parade, chatting to the individuals around them.

It's been a few years since Gerard's been to Pride, and he'd forgotten how great the people are. He's laughing with the funniest transvestite when a rainbow sticker is slapped onto his chest. The person has already vanished into the chaos by the time he turns round, but he smiles and shouts a thank you anyway.

Frank has his camera out for practically the entire time they're in the parade. Every other minute is accompanied by the click and whirr of Frank preserving memories forever. A few hours later they pull themselves out of the thrall and head home, holding hands and kissing on every corner. Gerard steals the camera and snaps a few shots of Frank with his little rainbow flag, stripes of colour across his cheeks. Those are the memories he wants to preserve.

Back in the VW at last, they make out lazily until it progresses to something more, and even then it's relaxed, loose, perfect.

The seventh night, they find a cinema showing zombie movies back to back, and settle down with a mega box of popcorn and extra large cokes. Frank, unsurprisingly, whips out the camera and gets a good dozen frames of Gerard gorging himself on popcorn before the employee thretens to kick them both out. To be fair, when the lights go down they manage to last the entire way through Dawn of the dead, Hell is full and part of 28 days later before they're making out in the back row like it's their first date all over again. By the time 28 days finishes and Zombieland has begun, Frank is grinding down into Gerard's lap, biting at Gerard's lips and humping desperately into the heel of Gerard's hand.

They head back to the VW an hour later because Frank insisted on seeing the movie through, even though they were both rumpled and sticky, and when they get there, they get rumpled and sticky all over again.

The eighth night finds them at a firework party. The band aren't anywhere as good as theirs but they set the mood nicely; the couple rest their heads together and watch the sky explode into brilliant, blinding colours.

At one point the music slows; Gerard links his fingers with Frank's and tugs him into a space so he can pull their bodies together and match their movements to the dancers around them. It reminds Gerard of their first dance; they'd swayed to Paramore's 'Only Exception', and it had been the first time Gerard had ever been completely, blissfully, unabashedly happy.

Okay, so maybe it's a little different - they're both in ripped jeans and band shirts and neither of them are crying, but he can feel the cool of Frank's ring on the skin of his neck and feel his crooked grin against his shoulder and that's enough. More than.

They buy a pack of sparklers and Frank takes pictures of Gerard writing 'F+G' in a heart with a dopey smile creasing his eyes. Gerard offers to take the camera so Frank can have a picture too. He draws a penis.

There's a ferris wheel so they squeeze into a carrige and kiss at the very top because they're sappy idiots like that. But whatever. It's their honeymoon, they can be as sappy as they like.

The sun is just rising, streaking the sky a soft pink when they return to the camper van. Gerard lays Frank down on the bed and kisses every inch of him, whispering secrets and promises into the shadows and colours of Frank's body. They make love well into the morning, and succumb to slumber curled together as tight as their limbs allow.

On day eight, they head home. Gerard drops Frank off with a kiss through the driver's window and goes to return Bob's van, and when he gets back, he opens the bedroom door to a giant cluster of a hundred polaroids blu-tacked to the wall above their bed.

Frank is kneeling on the pillows, his shirt riding up as he reaches to add a picture to the edge. Gerard knees up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and nuzzling into his shoulder. Frank giggles.

They sit back and admire it together. “You like it?” Frank asks.

“Love it,” Gerard murmurs. “But how are we going to explain that to guests, exactly?” He points to a shot of Frank in his collar and lacy panties pouting at the camera.

Frank shrugs nonchalantly underneath Gerard's head. “Who cares?”

Gerard smiles. “Not me, baby.”


End file.
